


Survivor

by still_lycoris



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake finds Avon at one of the Capitol parties with a proposal. Avon is ... less than thrilled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivor

Blake found him at one of the parties.

As far as Avon was concerned, the worst bit of the parties was that people talked to you although he was very good at getting rid of that problem by now. Most people had realised that talking to him was a good way to get metaphorical acid poured in your ear and left him alone. There was always somebody new who wanted to try their luck though or someone old who found it amusing. Blake was apparently this years idiot.

“You’re Avon, aren’t you?”

“Well done,” Avon said in an aspic tone. “You have correctly identified me after seeing me on your screen for years. You must be the clever one from your District.”

Blake didn’t look even slightly ruffled by Avon’s rudeness. On the contrary, he seemed rather pleased by it, as though Avon had done what was expected. Avon tried not to grind his teeth and hoped someone would come to take Blake away soon. He was the current Victor, everybody would want him right now. Everyone who wasn’t Avon. Avon found congratulating people on their bloody slaughter boring and pointless for the most part. Blake’s game had hardly been an interesting one. Just the usual amount of hacking and stabbing. At least Avon’s game had involved _thought_.

Not that that was much to be proud of.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Blake said.

“And you are doing so,” Avon said. “How impressive for you.”

Blake didn’t reply immediately. He looked around instead and Avon vaguely followed his gaze, even though Blake didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. Perhaps he was a little overwhelmed by Capitol parties. Avon had no idea if District One had parties like this but probably not. He didn’t care either. He was used to this by now, the rigmarole, the idiocy, the waste. He just put up with it all until he could go home and go back to pretending the outside world didn’t exist. He had a new computer programme he was trying to work out that he’d had to leave behind. Sometimes, the Capitol searched his home while he was away, the last time he’d got back and found that they’d ruined months of careful work. Particularly annoyingly, it hadn’t even been on purpose, they’d just hit a few keys out of interest. If they did that this time, he was going to – 

“It’s sickening, isn’t it?”

Well, it was safe to say Avon hadn’t expected that. He managed to contain his surprise to a blink and a small quirk of the lip. He looked at Blake, noticing that the disgust was evident on his face. Blake meant it. He saw this party for what it was and he despised it. Understandable – but dangerous.

“If I were you, I’d learn to hide such feelings. Victors are supposed to enjoy their spotlights, not criticise the delights of Capitol parties.”

“You don’t hide anything,” Blake pointed out, turning to look at him. Avon raised his eyebrow slightly and allowed a small smirk.

“Well, the fact that you think that shows how well I hide everything, doesn’t it?”

“I mean, it’s not secret that you view the Capitol in contempt,” Blake said. He was giving Avon a look of disarming honesty and Avon didn’t like it at all. “It never was, was it? They never replay your full interview – you were too awful.”

“No, it’s not a secret,” Avon said crisply. “And that’s why I have no living family. I believe there are better examples you could follow than mine, as I’m sure that any of the _many_ victors from your district can tell you.”

It was a jibe that he felt was deserved. District One and Two were so lucky, they had no idea. Oh, of course they had to live with the deaths like everyone else but they had a wide pool of victors. They had far more money. Avon betted that Blake had lived a contented life until he’d volunteered. 

Avon hadn’t volunteered. He would never forget the sickness he’d felt when his name had been called. He would have given anything to be a million miles away at that moment. Everyone just staring at him, shaking their heads, glad that it wasn’t them, probably even secretly glad that it was just Kerr Avon who nobody really liked anyway …

“They don’t understand,” Blake said quietly. “They all … they seem to think … it’s a good thing, that this is all about glory and … I _saw_ those people die, I saw the light go out of their eyes as they … as I … it’s not right.”

Avon stared at him, keeping his face as smooth as possible and letting his eyes dart all around. Nobody was noticeably listening but that meant nothing. The Capitol had eyes and ears everywhere. Sometimes Avon could disable the bugs that were around him but not always. And he had to be careful when he did. People didn’t like it when they realised they couldn’t spy on you.

“Listen to me, Blake,” he said softly. “Everything you are saying is dangerous and stupid. You can’t change it, just accept it, grit your teeth and smile through it as much as you can if you want your family to live through the week.”

“We _could_ change it,” Blake said softly. “If enough of us got together. We could change things.”

Avon resisted the urge to grab him and shake him. It would draw attention to them. He fixed a smile on his face instead, knowing it was a fake smile and not caring. Everyone was used to his fake smiles. Nobody ever expected anything but thinly veiled contempt from him, however important they were. It was his charm, now. Kerr Avon, the amusingly angry one. He hated that. A part of him just wanted to get worse, bad enough that it was too awful to overlook – but that would lead to death and he’d survived so far, he didn’t want to give up now.

“You’re clearly very, _very_ stupid,” he said. “You cannot change anything and you court death by even _thinking_ about it. You survived, Blake, you survived when twenty three others died. I suggest you enjoy that survival and stop trying to kill the other people who have also managed to survive so far. Talking to me about this could get both of us killed.”

“Nobody’s listening to us,” Blake said, sounding quite calm, looking around as though they were having a cheerful conversation. “Not yet anyway. And I know you have the ability to make things … quiet. Everyone knows you’re a computer genius.”

Avon allowed a real smile to twitch on his lips for a moment. It was nice to be appreciated, even by a radical idiot.

“Yes, I am,” he said. “But I’m also a realist, Blake. I have no intention of getting myself killed. I can’t believe that anybody else is going long with you either but if they’re all stupid enough to get talked into your ideas, I suppose they deserve it.”

“Not stupid,” Blake said. “They just understand. People want to fight back, Avon. They don’t want to live like this any more. I know you feel the same. But we’ll need people if we’re to make this work, people who are well-fed and clever. We can’t do it without you.”

“No, you can’t,” Avon agreed, taking another look around the room. A few people were looking at them curiously now, wondering why Blake was spending so much time with bitter, cold Avon. He needed to get rid of Blake and quickly.

Blake knew it too. He gave a soft sigh and looked at Avon again, his eyes slightly pleading.

“Just … meet me again,” he said. “We don’t have long before we’re all sent back to our districts. Please.”

Avon knew that he shouldn’t. That it would get him killed. But a part of him was strangely drawn to it. He hadn’t seen anybody _care_ about something for so long and Blake … cared. And Blake was right, if he were hoping to rebel, he would need Avon. Nobody else around here could do even half the things Avon could do. As far as Avon was concerned, he surpassed even the Game Makers for computer skills.

“Why not?” he said dryly. “Who needs to be alive after all?”

Blake grinned at him, a quick glowing grin and then moved away, heading to the side of another Tribute, Jenna Stannis from District Four. Avon kept his face entirely smooth, already regretting everything. He ought to have told Blake to get lost, stayed away from everything. It didn’t matter how dreadful everything was, you simply had to put up with it. The Capitol was too strong, had too many weapons at their disposal. The Districts were too subjugated, too separated. If Blake thought he could bring them together, he was delusional. 

But …

Avon was so tired. Tired of the endless circles, tired of just _existing_ and waiting for the next Games to come around. Tired of watching frightened children turn to him, to _him_ for mentoring and then watching them die in the Arena. He told himself he didn’t care, he told himself it so much that he nearly believed it but sometimes it _hurt_ and he hated to hurt.

Well. He could just go along with Blake for now. If he played it right, he could pretend that he was just trying to spy on Blake, find out what he was doing and what his plan was. If he was careful, he could maybe have the best of both worlds.

He was a survivor.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 livejournal 12dayschristmas challenge


End file.
